


Smile Like You Mean It

by IsaiahVirus



Category: Palaye Royale (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Drinking, General Unhealthy Behavior, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Suicide, here with some nice sibling lovin, hey guys, its ya boi, palaye royale - Freeform, sin - Freeform, trash boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaiahVirus/pseuds/IsaiahVirus
Summary: Emerson noticed Remington had gotten a little weirder in the past while. Happier, but with more bracelets and he worries. He snoops and finds something heartbreaking, a suicide note.





	Smile Like You Mean It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey frens, this is garbage like me. If any of you need help please reach out. I'm always willing to listen over on [my main tumblr](http://potentialproblem01.tumblr.com/) or [my palaye side blog](https://palaisayerolaye.tumblr.com/)  
> suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> Please reach out to anyone, frens. You are valued and I'm here for you. Suicidal thoughts are tough but you're not alone.
> 
> Inspired by Smile Like You Mean It by the Killers and Ma Cherie by Palaye Royale

Emerson thought it started when Remington first bleached his hair. He wasn't the most grounded brother, but when he did pay attention, he was bound to notice something. When I Don't Feel Quite Right first was composed, the line about changing hair and lips didn’t bother Emerson as much as it would later on. He thought it was a clever commentary. But maybe Remington didn’t feel that way. Sebastian at first thought it was just Remington being Remington, a little wild but good natured. Changing hair was totally understandable. But then the lip injections started. 

Emerson had always thought his brother was definitely on the pretty side of masculine, they all were as it stands, but religiously Remington would look for plastic surgeons. His tattoo artist was always in the recent messages on his phone. He talked about getting new piercings all the time. 

Over the course of tour tacked on tour, Emerson was worn out. Remington had to be too. Not really an excuse for Emerson to slack off watching his brother, but an excuse nonetheless. 

Until one night Remington disappeared. He almost always told someone where he was going even if it was just over text. He wasn’t in the habit of up and leaving. Which wasn’t the problem. But he left his phone and they couldn't find his wallet anywhere. Either Remington had forgotten his phone- the least likely scenario for the insta hoe but more likely he deliberately left it. 

Sebastian and Emerson knew their brother probably the best out of anyone ever and realized a lonely Remington never ended well. Best they could hope for was that he just went out for coffee. But the sneaking suspicions in Emersons gut wouldn’t let him believe that. 

After checking everywhere in the venue and the streets and alleys outside, Sebastian and Emerson regrouped to figure out what to do with their awol brother. Without his phone, Remington couldn’t have gone far but they didn’t know when he was last seen. He could be one or twenty blocks away. 

Emerson was about to start gnawing on his nail beds when Remington waltzed back into the parking lot. Sebastians shoulders released the concealed tension and he took point. Emerson was ready to tear the beads off his necklace in anxiety. 

“Where were you?” Sebastian coolly asked.

“Dunno. Out. Exploring.” He had his usual dopey smile on his heart shaped pouty lips. Emerson had never been able to resist it. It was good Sebastian was doing this.

Cuffing Remington on his shoulder, Sebastian said, “Take your phone next time, man. Had us worried.” Remington just smiled. But Emerson caught the way he pulled down on his sleeve. 

The next day Remington wore a lot of bracelets. 

Emerson was no stranger to self hate, he practiced it nearly everyday. He recognized the signs in both his brothers. But lately, Remington had been a little less self-hatey. Maybe he was just on a mood upswing. Emerson had the nagging suspicion it wasn't though. More odd behaviors had started shortly after the first disappearing act. Remington stopped taking off his bracelets so much. He left to be alone after shows when they used to have to pry him off himself and Sebastian. He got quieter. He spent more time on social media. Not posting pictures, but looking at 30 day challenges and other beauty and fitness stuff. He stalked his favorite beauty gurus and wore even more makeup than usual. Ten step skin care. He looked great but Emerson always thought he looked good. He was getting thinner but Emerson couldn't really judge on that front, they all could probably eat more. 

About a month into this behavior Emerson reached the event horizon. He had to do something or he never would. One night after Remington finally went to bed,  _vampire my ass_.  Emerson broke the bro code. He snooped through Remington’s phone. Instagram and twitter turned up normal. But the notes section  _oh god the notes section._

Emerson had to bite his fist and put the phone down before he dropped it, screamed, or both. The initial shock froze him to the spot. But he knew he had to keep reading. That’s a lie. He couldn’t keep reading. He went through the camera roll. There was a folder labelled “Scars.” Emerson was terrified. The thumbnail wasn’t distinct enough but the ice cold fear was lodged in his spine. 

The folder was recently full of pictures of Remington’s thighs. Bloody. With razors in frame. Emerson thought he was going to throw up worse than any alcohol poisoning he’d ever had. But he kept scrolling the fear so deep seated he was slave to it. The earliest photo dated from the first night he disappeared. Lightly slashed wrists, more like scratches. Emerson noticed the only photos of his wrists were from the first few days. A small relief.

Remington had been hiding this for nearly two months. Emerson wanted to throw up. He might yet. Should he tell Sebastian? He has to tell Sebastian right? His big brother needs help.  _Think Emerson Think._

Emerson quietly went to the kitchen for Sebastian’s gin bottles. That’s the logical thing to do right?

Going back to looking through the camera roll, Emerson took photos of it with his phone and prepared to keep looking. Another folder caling ‘Inspo.’ Blessedly the thumbnail was just makeup. 

Until he scrolled down and it was photos of other scarred people and quotes about hating your body. Emerson took a long pull from the gin bottle and went to curl back up in his bunk. He needed a smoke. 

He kept looking through the inspo folder until he couldn't stomach it anymore. He made it to photos dated a year ago before he had to close the app out. The bottle was nearing empty. Sebastian would make him pay for it, he knew, but maybe if he told Sebastian what he found he’d be let off the hook. 

Emerson dreaded opening up the notes app again but he knew he had to. The most recent entry was a half finished suicide note to Sebastian. Emerson ran to the bathroom. He was definitely going to throw up. 

They’d all had their suicide scares before but they always managed to talk it out and support each other. Emerson had made a hobby of writing notes but hardly ever the serious nature of the one Remington was writing Sebastian. It was only half finished which meant Remington hadn’t tried anything tonight. Too big of a perfectionist in his writing to leave only half a note. 

After emptying his stomach he finished off the bottle, replacing vomit with gin. Sitting on the bathroom floor he opened the next note. To his horror it was a note for him.

_ Emerson. Im so so sorry. Im so sorry. I know we promised to not do this to each other. But I can’t do this anymore. I hate my body. I hate my mind. I hate my life. But i love you. I love you so much. I love you more than a brother should. Watching you grow up and get a girlfriend nearly destroyed me. And it finally has. Im so sorry I love you like this. I could never tell you in this life. Maybe when you find me ill be able to say it to your face. Live on my  _ _love_

_ Remi _

Emerson was ready to break up with his girlfriend right then if it meant doing so could fix Remington. But he was rooted to the floor. He only realized he was crying when tears tracked down onto his wrist and tickled him out of his glassy eyed state. He bit back full on sobs as he fell all the way to the floor. He needed another drink. He needed a smoke. He needed something stronger. 

He cried on the bathroom floor until there were no more tears left. And he didn't get up until somewhere near the four am mark. He needed to tell Sebastian. Back to the fridge, he opened a new bottle of liquor and drank generously. He tiptoed back to the bunks and roused Sebastian who was understandably confused and peeved at being waken. But as his senses returned and he saw his baby brother completely wrecked by tears and dangerously drunk with a new bottle of gin in one hand and Remington's? phone in the other; he went into overdrive. 

“Are you ok?” Always the mama hen. Emerson could only let more tears fall. Sebastian got down out of his bunk and pulled Emerson into a tight hug. Emerson crumpled against him and silent sobs racked his body. “Baby boy I need to know what happened.” Sebastian cooed and shushed his brother. 

Emerson couldn't really do much but hold out Remington’s unlocked phone with Sebastian’s note queued up. Sebastian took it out of Emerson’s shaking hands and read it to himself. Emerson didn’t see but Sebastian's face closed off and he gently took the bottle. His head fell back against the bunk shelf and he drank for a minute. His older brother face back in place, he faced Emerson again and pulled him into a hug. He was losing the fight against crying with his baby brother for his little brother. He didn’t even want to question why Emerson was in Remington’s phone because what he found warranted the means. He pulled Emerson into the front of the bus and slid the door to the hallway closed. He set Emerson on the couch and set himself around him. They both clearly needed to be close. 

Suicide was the worst case scenario for them. And Remington was there, at the end of his rope. Sebastian didn’t know what to do. He drank more. 

Eventually Sebastian’s tears ran out and Emerson stilled. “What are we gonna do.” Sebastian didn’t pose a question. They had to do something. Emerson knew what he wanted to do for his brother. He was an inch away from calling and breaking things off with his girlfriend. The only thing stopping him was the hour. He loves his girlfriend enough not to break her heart at 2am her time. 

“We have to talk to him.” The most rational thing Emerson had said all night. 

“We do.” They didn’t move. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. If I need your help I’ll get you. But we keep this between us.”  Emerson wouldn’t let anything split them up. 

“I think we have to tell Mom, Emi.” 

“Not yet.” Emerson thought about showing him his note. “We’ll call her if we can’t do anything. Give me until after the show tomorrow.” A pause, then: “Please.” 

Sebastian drank more. “We’ll do it your way for now. But we are not letting him die on us. Not after he, and all of us, made so much progress.” Emerson tucked his head into Sebastian’s neck and nodded. 

Sebastian took one last pull and handed the bottle to Emerson. He shook his head. Sebastian shrugged and put it back in the freezer. He kissed his baby brothers head, “We need to sleep. We’ll be no good to him if we can't function tomorrow.” Sebastian glanced at the other empty bottle. “And you won't be any good hungover. Get some sleep Emi.” With that he opened the door and crawled back into his bunk. 

Emerson sat on the couch for a beat before he followed Sebastian back to sleep. He didn’t sleep at all. 

Pretending to be ok and sharing significant looks with Sebastian throughout the day and watching Remington for any cues or mood drops was exhausting. By the time sound check came Emerson was ready to sleep for a century. He made no art that day. 

Remington had his usual energy and antics that night. If he sounded a little raw, no one was willing to say anything. 

By the time Ma Cherie was up, Emerson was so raw, verging on being destroyed. The tears fell during the first chorus. He hid behind his hat and watched Remington from under the brim of his hat. The tears fell on his kit. He hoped they didn’t catch light. Although as an artist he figured that could be beautiful. 

Remington’s voice kept breaking. 

Emerson made the executive decision to break up with his girlfriend immediately after the show. 

Seeing his tears and making eye contact with Remington made the final pieces fit together. It was so obvious, now that all the pieces had slotted together. This is about him. So much of Remington’s writing was about him. Sebastian must have noticed the moment. While two thirds of the group was crying, Sebastian takes a minute to solo and do a little crowd work. Emerson had never been more thankful for his brother’s ability to read the room and take the spotlight. Emerson got his shit back together and Remington turned around. The moment passed. The show went on. 

The show ended. 

They were worn raw. Emerson shut down afterwards. Sebastian came to check on him in the green room and scooped Emerson up into his lap. He cried on Sebastian's shoulder. 

Emerson picked himself off the floor and held Sebastian’s hand for a second in gratitude and went to shower and put on a new, clean outfit. He was ready to talk to his girlfriend and then Remington. 

He called her whilst showering. It was not a short shower. She cried. He was too numb to care. He said “I’m sorry,” and hung up. He dried off and redressed. He had to ask his brother out on a date? And face the existential question: does he like Remington the way Remington apparently likes him?

“Hey, Remi. Wanna go get Starbucks?” Sebastian gave him a look of significance and Emerson gave him what he hoped was a subtle nod. 

“Sure.” Remington beamed up at him from the couch. “Lemme grab some stuff and we can go.” Emerson looked up where the nearest one to them was. It was about a 15 minute walk. The walk would either do wonders for his anxiety or wreck his nerves more than they already were. 

Remington returned with a sweater, it wasn’t cold for a Philly night, but it wasn’t July either. Emerson held the door open and they headed out. 

The first three blocks were quiet. Emerson couldn’t stop thinking about taking Remington’s hand. 

Emerson lit a cigarette. He held the carton out to Remington who declined to take one. 

He finished it by the end of the block and lit another. Remington’s mood had seemingly fallen each block away from the venue they walked. Maybe it was just Emerson projecting but the mood was definitely more somber as they approached the soft white and green marquee. 

The warmth of the door opening surprised them both. They had both adjusted far to quickly to the numbing chill of March in the northeast. It wasn't busy and there wasn't a line. Emerson was keyed up enough he didn’t need a lot of caffeine so he ordered tea. Remington could never turn down caffeine or sugar and he got some disgustingly overpriced half sugar concoction. As they waited for their drinks, Emerson threw his jacket over a chair and sat down. He gestured for Remington to do the same. Emerson figured they’d be there for awhile. 

Emerson got both of their drinks when called. He returned and gave his brother his coffee and tried to get comfortable. 

He couldn’t. 

He kept shifting in his seat and Remington had definitely noticed. Remington picking up on the tension caused a negative feedback loop to form. And the more Emerson squirmed the more negative energy he received from Remington caused more squirming. He would soon reach a breaking point. He had to do something before he shattered.

He waited another moment. 

He stopped fiddling with his tea and made to reach for Remington’s hand that was on the table. Feeling a little more grounded he chose to start with, “I broke up with my girlfriend.” He couldn’t get more out than that in the same mouthful. He was too still keyed for multi-sentence coherence. 

Remington failed to hide any of the emotions on his face: shock, confusion, a tinge of relief, definite pleasure. He hadn’t been lying about his affections for Emerson. For his brother’s sake, he said with as much sympathy as Remington could find, which wasn’t a lot, he’s incredibly empathetic, not sympathetic, “Emi, what happened?” 

Emerson was quiet for a moment. It was really now or never, mostly because Sebastian would have a similar discussion if he didn’t. “I broke up with her.” He checked his phone. “Maybe an hour ago.” Remington looked a little taken aback. “You’re the first person I’ve told. She’s not the one I really want.” Emerson looked down at his coffee and at his and Remington’s clasped hands. They both looked pale, unhealthily so in the Starbucks and street light. The tension finally snapped like a rubber band in classroom warfare. “I went through your phone.” Remington immediately began to close up. His hand went limp and tried to pull back from Emerson. “Let me finish.” It was a soft but devastating statement. Remington stilled. Emerson went on. “I love you so much. More than her. More than Sebastian. More than Mom. I want you and I didn’t know it was killing you inside because you love me the way I love you and we were too big of idiots to see it. I repressed it. Buried it in art and her. And if you’ll still have me, I want that too, Remi.” Emerson had said his piece. He’d spoken more in the last five minutes in Starbucks than he had all day really. As an afterthought, his head quirked to one side and he added, “Is Ma Cherie about me?” 

Remington displayed about the whole range of human emotions. He chose to address the last part first. “Yeah, Ma Cherie is about you.” He looked down at the table. Drank some more coffee. Tightened his hand to Emerson’s. “Of course I still want you. I’ll always want you.” Emerson looked down at his cup and did the cute thing where he blushed and smiled and looked adorable and bashful. He pulled their hands to his lips and kissed each of Emerson’s knuckles. “But I need to know, what all did you see in my phone?” 

Emerson was almost ashamed. “I found the notes for me and Sebastian.” Remington closed up a little. “I went through your pictures.” Remington shut down. “Remi.  **Remington** .” Remington forced himself to look up. Steel laced Emerson’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Emerson held his free hand to his mouth, hiding, and was an inch from crying. He mumbled into his sleeve: “I love you so much.”

Remington was silent for a long moment. He hadn’t planned on anyone finding out. He planned to handle his own shit. And if anyone did find out, it would be because he finally bit the bullet and killed himself. “I love you so much Emi. But you know how it is.” Emerson, did in fact, know how it was. “I couldn’t even live with myself. And why would you ever want someone so,” Remington’s voice shrank, “ugly?” 

Emerson’s heart broke into a thousand million tiny pieces. His brother is hands down always the most beautiful person in the room. But how could he convince Remington when he knows how hard it is to feel beautiful? Emerson’s body issue weren’t small either. 

He did the next best thing. He got up, temporarily breaking their hand hold but the second he was close enough to Remington’s side of the table he reclasped them. “You are the most beautiful person in the world. Always. Every time.” In a now or never, split second decision, Emerson sat in Remington’s lap, hooked his free hand around Remington’s neck and kissed his brother. Remington tasted like sugar and ash and lipgloss. Emerson wasn’t sure what he expected but in retrospect what else would Remington taste like? It wasn’t chaste for Emerson knew not how to be and he was pretty sure the barista had heard them call each other brother but Emerson really didn’t have the emotional or intellectual capacity to care. His brother was warm and wet and all Emerson had room to think about.

Remington got over his shock because  _could this really be happening? Kissing his little brother in a Starbucks in the middle of the nights?_ Emerson was all smoke and ash and bitter tea. Remington had fantasized Emerson would taste just like him and that was almost the case. Leaning into the cold glass behind him, Remington pulled Emerson down and further into him. If this was only going to happen once, Remington needed memories good enough to last a lifetime. 

After what felt like an eternity, Emerson pulled off Remington’s lips and dropped his forehead against Reminton’s, his hat causing some of Remington's spikes to wilt. They sat and breathed and let the experience became an entirely sense based one. They didn’t notice the barista pull out his phone and take a picture. 

“Is this a dream?” Remington asked. 

“Isn’t all of life a dream?” Emerson quirked his head, “But this is real. This is happening. Or, as much as anything else, this is happening.”

“Please don’t let this be a dream.”

They sat in silence for another long moment. Before Emerson moved to stand and Remington made a high keening noise. 

“We only said we were going out for coffee, Remi. Everyone is probably worried we were kidnapped or something.” Emerson’s logic was impeccable as usual. Remington let his head hit the glass behind him twice before he relinquished the atmosphere and got up. Looking around, they were the only ones in the front of the store. Evidently the barista went to the backroom for a minute. 

Emerson fixed his hat, put his jacket back on, and grabbed his cup. He looked at Remington with his piercing gaze reserved for only the most interesting things. Remington couldn’t take the intensity and put his jacket back on and slurped up the rest of his drink and chucked it in the garbage can by the door. He held out a hand for Emerson and once he was firmly anchored to his baby brother, opened the door to the cold Philly air. He pulled Emerson out into the night and stopped. “Which way did we come from?”

“I don’t…..actually know.” Emerson had been so tied up in his anxiety about confronting Remington he had lost all sense of direction. He pulled out his phone to google their venue. It ended up being straight down the road to their left. Emerson put his phone away and tugged on Remington’s hand and began to lead them back. 

Remington gave a hard tug on Emerson’s hand, unclasped it, and used the momentum to tuck, or as much as you could tuck a six foot and change drummer, Emerson into his side and put his hand in Emerson’s back pocket. Emerson caught on quickly but did nothing to stop it and snuggled deeper into Remington’s side. 

Remington turned his head to press a kiss into the side of Emerson’s face. He kept them there, “Thank you.” 

Emerson had nothing to say in return. This was a quiet moment. He turned his face and went on his tippy toes to kiss Remington’s forehead, blessedly free of foundation this late in the day. They kept walking.

Getting back to the bus, almost everything was packed and ready to go. They checked over the green room again for any missed belongings and got back on the bus for another night of driving. 

Sebastian gave Emerson a significant look that heavily implied they’d be talking later but otherwise left Remington and him to do their own thing. The pair of them went to their bunks and the executive decision was made to smoosh together in Remington’s bunk. These bunks were not designed for double occupancy by tall men but especially now Remington and Emerson wanted to be close. They flipped the light on and closed the curtain, Emerson laying mostly on top of Remington. His elbows locked onto Remington’s sides holding him up so he could look more fully at him. “You are...So beautiful.” Emerson didn’t get how Remington could be so unhappy, well he could, he just didn’t think it had any basis in reality. 

Remington pulled off Emerson’s hat and dropped it on the floor outside. He drew a hand up to push Emerson’s hair out of his face and kept it there for a minute. Emerson nuzzled into Remington’s wrist, leaving butterfly kisses on his sleeve which was slipping down. Scars peeked out. Emerson had forgotten about that. 

He dropped to lay most of his weight on Remington and caught the wrist he’d been kissing. He looked at Remington as he pulled the sleeve the rest of the way up. Devoid of many bracelets the mostly healed wounds stood out, especially on Remington’s paper white skin. There was a time both of them were sunkissed and beach bronzed. A time long passed. 

Emerson could feel Remington squirming under him. He turned to look at the scars. He kissed them, littering skin with love. “We have to talk about this.” Remington squirmed more. “I get that you really don’t, but we really need to. Are you feeling suicidal today?”

“No. Though that’s not usually the case.” Remington wasn’t looking at him and Emerson’s thousand million heart shards broke further. He and Sebastian had failed Remington. 

“You know we should tell Mom, right?” 

Remington started to tear up. Telling Mom the last time Emerson had been at the end had taken the strength of both Sebastian and Remington backing him up. Emerson didn’t really want to have to tell Mom unless they needed to. One of the promises they made her was to always tell her, but, well. It’s  _hard._

“I know.”

“Sebastian already knows.” Emerson hoped it wouldn’t cause his brother to close off more.

“I figured. You two aren’t as subtle as you think you are.” Remington wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. Emerson laid his head on Remington’s chest. 

“You really have to tell us when it gets this bad. We’re here to help, Remi. Let us,” Emerson pleads.

“I thought I could manage it,” Remington mumbles into his sleeve. He still won’t look at Emerson.

“I know about the cutting and the body image issues. And then there was me, but that’s all squared away,” Emerson smiled into Remington’s neck, hoping he could feel it. “Is there anything else I need to know? I’d also like to know how long.”

Remington sighed and looked at Emerson. “Loving you? Probably three years now.” _Jesus Christ, I've been an idiot_ , thinks Emerson. “Harming myself? This time around? I dunno. A month maybe.” So about when Emerson first noticed him wearing bracelets, at least he hadn’t let it get much worse.

Emerson hooked his chin over Remington’s shoulder and nosed at his ear. “I’m so sorry, Remi. I love you so much and I let this happen.”

“S’not your fault. Never is. You’re too perfect.” Emerson blushed.

“But now that you have me to tell you how beautiful you are, you won’t need to self-harm and you’ll tell me when the craving starts?”

“Yeah. I will. Please just don’t tell Mom.”

“We’ll see about not telling her. What do you want to tell Sebastian about us?” This was probably the most sensitive subject between the three of them. For as much as they tried to keep out of each other’s sex lives, they were so close it was impossible to keep each other out completely. They would have a big talk about talking to each other when feeling so despaired and feeling like they wanted to harm themselves, but coming clean about dating as biological brothers? Iffy, even as cool as Sebastian is. 

“Be honest,” Remington sighs, “He’d figure it out eventually. He’s the smartest of us.” He nuzzles into Emerson, sliding his arms around Emerson’s waist. 

Emerson feels so loved and warm, he doesn’t want to confront the world, but he knows he must. “Why don’t you sleep or watch Netflix or something and I’ll talk to Sebastian.”

Remington tightens his hold on Emerson and rasps in his ear, “I’d rather you stayed here and keep me company.” And really, Emerson would deeply prefer to stay right there with Remington and get to know each other even better, but Sebastian was waiting. He told Remington such. They’d been hiding for longer than Sebastian was probably comfortable with and he didn’t deserve to not know that Remington was going to be ok.

Emerson started to disentangle himself when Remington used a considerable amount of force to drag him back down, crashing their hips together and into a searing kiss that would probably look obscene to the passerby, “In case this is a dream,” Remington says into his lips.

Emerson ran a hand through Remington’s hair, “It’s not.” Emerson pulled away. Opened the curtain and basically fell out of the bunk, but caught himself before he could land ass first on the floor. He goes to the front of the bus where Sebastian hasn’t moved all that much and sits down across from him. Sebastian only raises an eyebrow.

“So. Um. Remi’s going to be fine.” Sebastian gives him his mom look and Emerson continues, “We, uh, worked it out. He was just really distressed about, um, uh….” There was no way around it. Emerson would have to tell Sebastian about him and Remington. It was really the only way to put context on this. “Well he was feeling ugly, you’re familiar, and generally in the gutter because he’s, he’s, in love with me.” Silence reigned. Emerson squirmed, “So, yeah. We’re together now and Remi’s promised to tell me when he feels the itch come.”

Whatever reaction he was looking for from Sebastian didn’t come. He nodded slowly, “That would explain the call from your... _ex_ -girlfriend.” Emerson flushed. “But Remington is better now? The big issue is dealt with?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sebastian nods again, decisively. He says nothing. Moments pass and Emerson can’t deal with silence. “So you’re cool with us? Us being me and Remington together, like, romantically?”

Sebastian looks at him with such a soft smile, “Baby brother, do you really think I would be able to stop you if I tried? I just want you two to be happy, social taboos be damned.”

The weight visibly fell off Emerson’s shoulders. But then Sebastian smirked and continued, “Not like I couldn’t tell what you two were just doing. Just keep it down and were good.”

Emerson went a deep red and made to leave. 

“One last thing, what’d Remington want to do about Mom?”

“He, understandably, doesn’t want to tell her and I’m inclined to agree.” Emerson got up. 

“Then we keep this episode between ourselves.”

“Thank you Sebastian. For everything.”

A warm smile, “It’s what I’m here for.”

Emerson went back to Remington’s bunk, intent on climbing in when Daniel poked his head out from the one above. “Hey man. Whatcha doing with Remington?” Such an innocently phrased question but they hadn’t really considered who was listening earlier and Daniel’s cool. 

“Um. Looks like Remington and I are an item now. Will that be a problem for you?”

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Nah man, you guys do you.”

Remington appeared from the bathroom to see the standoff. “Everything ok guys?”

Daniel looked at him, “We’re good man. Sleep well you two.” He closed his curtain. The emphasis placed on ‘you two’ was hard to miss. Daniel was cool and if he wasn’t, Sebastian could deal with it.

Remington snuggled up close to Emerson. “Sleep with me, yeah?” 

Emerson gave his boyfriend a dorky smile and began to strip out of his clothes. “Of course.”

The logistics of both of them sleeping comfortably would work themselves out but for now? Emerson was happy to be close to Remington, within easy kissing distance. If maybe there was a lot of intimate contact between them that night, well maybe there was. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If any of you need help please reach out. I'm always willing to listen over on [my main tumblr](http://potentialproblem01.tumblr.com/) or [my palaye side blog](https://palaisayerolaye.tumblr.com/)  
> suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> Please reach out to anyone frens. You are valued and I'm here for you. Suicidal thoughts are tough but you're not alone.  
> The invitation to come yell about Palaye on tumblr is open to everyone, drop on in. My main is mostly about the mcu and star wars if yalls be into that garbage too


End file.
